


Maferath's Nose

by allisondraste



Series: Roses and Thorns [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: Alistair is the worst ex-templar recruit she has ever seen.





	Maferath's Nose

“Again,” Lucia ordered from several feet away, conjuring up a ball of energy in her fist, prepared to hurl it at him. It was approximately the eight-hundredth time she had said that in a very short period of time.

“Luce, I was in training to be a Templar, remember,” Alistair whined, a vain attempt to plead with her to stop this needless sparring, “I think I know how to f-.” A fireball wooshed past his head, singeing the tips of his hairs. “Hey! Watch it.” He touched them gingerly to make sure they were still there.

This wasn’t the first time the mage had sought to help him sharpen his skill in combat against magic-weilders. Each time it had come about after an incident. This time it was because he took a firebolt to the side, leaving him with a nasty burn.

“What happened,” she had asked as she tended his wound, concern painting her face.

“Heh, well. I may have forgotten that mage was there,” he had explained as he winced in pain.

“Forgot? How could you forget a man throwing fire at you.”

“I started thinking about how the other mage looked like all of the Maferath statues I’ve ever seen, and then I thought, ‘Huh, Maferath had an interesting nose.” Lucia had thought him to be joking and rolled her eyes, but he was being completely serious. That was just how his mind worked.

Lucia was a skilled tactician, and she meticulously planned and choreographed each and every action she took on the battlefield. It was particularly effective in fighting mages who could whirl spells in all directions at any time. Alistair could fight mages, he could, but he had to do so differently, creatively. Thinking ten steps ahead had never been his strong point.

It made sense, really, considering all the times in his Templar training he’d been called “reckless” and “distractible.” He distinctly remembered meditating to center himself before sparring matches among the recruits. He was skilled with a blade, and as long as he was able to prepare, he won every match.

“Alistair, focus.” Her words were crisp, but not harsh, bringing his attention back to the present, and to the fireball curled in her fist. He watched carefully as she flung it toward him, and managed to deflect the attack with his shield. “If you can dodge arrows, then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to dodge an elemental attack.”

He smirked. “Funny how you assume I dodge anything.” She gathered more energy in her hand, another ball of fire that she hurled his direction, and true to his word, he ran toward the flame, toward her. Grimacing, he let the spell flash against his shoulder, and he moved closer to her. She attempted to summon another flame and he dropped his shield, kicking it forcefully across the ground.

Lucia moved to avoid the shield crashing into her shins, losing her footing as she did so and tumbling to the ground, tossing another fireball his direction as she fell. It missed, and before she could pick herself up, he was over her, sword extended toward her, daring her to try to cast another spell. Daring her to harm another of his precious hairs.

“Do you yield?” He tried his best to sound serious despite the smug grin creeping across his face.

No response. She just stared at him, inspecting him, as if she were calculating a way to escape his victory.

“It seems I have out-maneuvered y-,” he began, but was cut off by the sword being knocked from his hand, as she kicked his feet out from underneath him. Not an incredibly wise decision on her part as he collapsed directly on top of her, just barely catching his weight with one of his elbows. “You’re brutal, you know that?”

She was laughing, something she had done only infrequently since they had been traveling together. “You shouldn’t have started gloating before the fight was over”.

“You were on the ground…at sword point,” he insisted, “If this was a real fight it would have been over.” He raised up on his elbows slightly suddenly aware that he was lying on top of her. He felt a flush spread across his cheeks, and he brought his gaze up to see that she was looking at him. His heart pounded dramatically in his chest.

It was just the exertion, right? He tried desperately to make himself believe it, but he knew it wasn’t true. As he looked down at her, even as she was winded and disheveled from their duel, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He’d tried so hard to not think about her like that. She was a friend, a fellow warden. That was it! But as their eyes remained locked for approximately an eternity, he knew he was fooling himself.

Alistair laughed and shook his head, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be disappointment in her eyes. It made him wonder if she felt the same way, but thought better than to get his hopes up. He rolled off of her to lie flat on his back, feeling a full throb in his elbow as he did so.

“You’re lucky I didn’t crush you,” he teased, poking that very elbow into her arm.

“You’re not big enough to crush me,” she laughed in response.

“Um, have you seen me? I’m twice your size, and you are but wee.”

“Wee?”

“Yes. Wee. As in tiny, small, fragile.”

“I could easily lift you. Very easily. I’m not fragile.”

“I know that’s why I l-,” _like you so much,_ he wanted to say, “Let you train me and… stuff.” It wasn’t wholly a lie. Lucia was impressive in battle and he could stand to learn from her, but the real Maker’s honest reason why he sparred with her was that he would jump at any chance to spend time together.

“Right.” Lucia’s voice hinted that she didn’t believe him. “Alistair, you said you had Templar training.”

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly, worried about what that meant to her.

“You could have easily silenced my magic.” She sat up and turned to look at him.

“Yes,” he answered again.

“What stopped you?”

“You know me, always making things loads more difficult than they need to be.” A nervous laugh escaped him as he tried to look anywhere but into her eyes.

“Alistair,” she said, knowingly.

“I refuse to do that to you.” His answer came more quickly than he expected, and he sat up to join her.

“Oh.” She blinked, stunned. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with a shrug an a laugh. He his attempts to be nonchalant were pointless. He was, in fact, the most chalant person who ever existed. However, if Lucia noticed, or if it bothered her, she said nothing.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Lucia spoke again. “We should do this more often.”

“Yes.” Alistair smiled, his heart leaping in excitement. “We really should.”


End file.
